that once had shown an equally golden lustre was dull and smooth now,
and touched with gray. She came in smiling, and a little breathless,

"Mother, you didn't come out in all this rain just to bring us our
lunches!" Margaret protested, kissing the cold, fresh face.

"Well, look at the lunch you silly girls were going to eat!"
Mrs. Paget protested in turn, in a voice rich with amusement.
"I love to walk in the rain, Mark; I used to love it when I was
a girl. Tom and Sister are at our house, Mrs. Potter, playing with
Duncan and Baby. I'll keep them until after school, then I'll send
them over to walk home with you."

"Oh, you are an angel!" said the younger mother, gratefully. And "You
are an angel, Mother!" Margaret echoed, as Mrs. Paget opened a shabby
suitcase, and took from it a large jar of hot rich soup, a little blue
bowl of stuffed eggs, half a fragrant whole-wheat loaf in a white
napkin, a little glass full of sweet butter, and some of the spice
cakes to which Rebecca had already enthusiastically alluded.

"There!" said she, pleased with their delight, "now take your time,
you've got three-quarters of an hour. Julie devilled the eggs, and
the sweet-butter man happened to come just as I was starting."

"Delicious!--You've saved our lives," Margaret said, busy with cups
and spoons. "You'll stay, Mother?" she broke off suddenly, as Mrs.
Paget closed the suitcase.

"I can't, dear! I must go back to the children," her mother said
cheerfully. No coaxing proving of any avail, Margaret went with her